In a quiet corner of a weird forest lays the Gobl'inn.
Build on the forgotten remains of pubs that came before.

The Gobl'inn is not known for it's good food, quality rooms and especially not for the company that it provides.
It does give place for travelers to rest their head, have a chat, a drink or a warm cup of broth, that gives you a warm feel on a cold night and only mild food poisoning.

As you walk in you spot a green goblin with a top hat. He is busy cleaning the counter

Greetings, friend ! Welcome to the Gobl'inn. How can I help you ?

► Show Spoiler

Welcome to the Gobl'inn , a roleplaying thread that might turn into a game one day. And my little attempt to bring back some live to these forgotten lands
Have fun
Don't be a dick

Asks

Last edited by askstoomuch on Sat Apr 06, 2019 1:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.

A blue creature wanders in. It's not exactly a goblin, but no kobold ever looked like that. There's maybe something slightly elfin about it? Probably not. But... Huh. Whatever it is, it's wearing a colorful hat with a propeller on top, though the propeller serves no clear purpose at all.

The door slams open and a creature that looks more like an extremely short troll rather than a goblin enters. He's wearing a beat up looking Fedora, a much patched and totally disreputable long black coat that drags the ground, and a dirty grey turtle neck. His arms are so long that the pair of huge, hairy hands with claws drag in the dirt. His complexion is a greenish brown like swamp water. He has a screw eye and face that has met too many hard objects. Two greenish tusks extend from his lower jaw and he's chomping on a cigar stub.
"I hight Knuckle-dragger!" he annouces with a loud bellow. "BEER ME!"

"A hat store? They have stores just for hats around these parts? Amazing! I think I'm going to like it here. Sadly, mine doesn't fly. Or maybe it's a good thing. I'd hate for it to just fly straight off my head."

He looks over as the door opens. "Ah, another connoisseur of fine headwear! How wonderful! And how are you this fine --"

He stops as the newcomer bellows for a drink, and hastens to make room at the bar, gesturing with a flourish at the stool closest to the bartender.

The shabby looking ...goblin? Troll? (it's really hard to tell) pauses long enough to reach back out the door and drag in a beat up looking steamer trunk, which he props by the door. He slouches over to the bar stool, clambers up and slaps down a silver piece. He looks around at the blue creature and eyes the hat. "Nice hat."

" As long as it's wet and it's beer."
He grabs the beer and downs half of it in one gulp and belches.
"Where am I from? Why, for now, just up the road. I'm a professor with the Sidhean University. Bloody fairies are always moving the bloody gate around. Right now, for this season, it's under the round hill with the stone ring on top. Next season, who knows? " He gestures vaguely towards the door. "Three seasons ago, the gate was on an island in the middle of the ocean. 5 seasons ago it was a desert. Last season was up on a mountain way north of here." He shivers. "Bloody fool fairies and their seasonal courts." He slugs down the rest of the beer. "Another one, if you don't mind. It's been about 4 years since I've been able to find a tavern that wouldn't immediately try to mount my head on a pike!"

"Well, you know that the sidhe are divided into courts based on the seasons, right? Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter? Summer and Winter have the most power, and Spring and Autumn are blendings, courts of transition between the two main powers. Well whichever court is in charge determines where the front door to the university is in the mortal realm. It's location in the Sidhe realm is fixed, and in neutral territory. But the courts like to inconvenience the other side's followers in the mortal plane, so they're constantly dragging the mortal door from one location to the next. Winter had it last, hence the northern mountains. Spring has it now, and they generally take their direction from Summer, so there's a good chance it'll stay put for at least two seasons. Heck, if the locals are big into harvest festivals, Autumn may even leave it alone. They love a good party." He takes a good sized gulp of his beer, but not near as big as before.

Knuckles looks quizzically at the blue one. " I've heard about folk who couldn't hold their liquor, but they usually have to have had a drink first." he mutters. He takes the key, and gently scoops the blue one up in his arms without difficulty and takes him back to the indicated couch. He carefully arranges him on the couch so he won't fall off, then heads back out to the main room. "I'm going to go change into something a bit more comfortable than my field research clothes." He reclaims his steamer trunk, gets directions from the barkeep, and heads to his room.

The door creaks slowly open, pauses open for a few moments and then shuts again just as slowly. Small footfalls can be heard padding up to the bar, a barstool scratches across the floor a bit before the sound of something sits on it and then slowly scooches itself back up to the bar. Silence fills the bar for several minutes before you hear a heavy sigh.

After a few minutes, Knuckles re-enters, having changed into a very respectable tweed suit, white shirt, and string bow tie. The cigar is gone, replaced by a meerschaum pipe. He's wearing a proper set of brown wingtips rather than the black muddy boots that he had on earlier. He's wearing a pair of gold wire rim spectacles. He's still wearing his scuffy looking fedora, although it does look like he's made an attempt to clean it up some.
He strolls over to the arm chairs by the fireplace and flops into one. He then pulls out a notebook and pen and starts busily scribbling in it, all the while humming to himself.

A few moments pass, another sigh escapes from the mouth of something at the bar and then the barstool scrapes across the floor away from the bar. Footsteps pad over behind the bar, a mug moves from the shelf, gets filled to the brim with what goes for alcohol and then the mug hovers over in front of the bar where it plops itself back onto the bar. The barstool then scrapes itself forward against the bar.

Knuckles pauses in his scribbling, watching the antics at the bar over the top of his glasses. Once the mug and bar stool stop moving, he clears his throat.
" I beg your pardon, but are you normally invisible, or is this a spell of some sort?"

Knuckles looks intrigued. "A contagious curse, then. " He mutters to himself "Seen a few of those."
Looking back in the direction of the bar stool, "So do said items stay invisible if you stop wearing them, or do they come back? If they do come back, how long does it take? And if you don't mind me asking, WHO or WHAT did your parents irritate enough that it/she/he did this? While your particular curse is a bit...different..., it's not the only one like that I've seen. Before I make any suggestions, I'd like to make sure that I don't get hit with a 'Midas Curse' for sticking my nose into someone else's vendetta."

((Just for simplicity's sake, I'll just use the Sidhe , with some modification (primarily the inclusion of the Spring and Autumn Courts) as outlined in the Dresden novels. Otherwise you can wind up chasing your tail on the different legends all day long. ))

The beer mug waves around hazily as if it had a mind of its own and words seemed to come from the mug.

"After a few days they turn visible again. Dressing meself would be a right chore otherwise.... Cursed! Me gob parents thought this was a blessing, they even snuck me away from the village after my birth and raised me in seclusion until I came of age a few months later. Been on me own ever since they died." The beer mug snuffles and sighs.

"Just so lonely....hard to spend gold that's invisible and I've fleeced a few houses thinking I'd strike it rich, bugger on me"

You hear rumble something from the rooms upstairs, then coughing. Then a door opens slowly and an old and scarred goblin, coloured a pale yellow, walks out. Marks of old age, a bit darker than his skin, make him look a bit dirty. He is missing one eye, half a ear and one of his upper front fangs.
He sits down at the bar, right in front of the green goblin on a stool that looks slightly more used and polished than the others.

"Hatty, you got any more of that tasty mash of yours? Oh, and pour my the usual please. *Cough* my throat is getting dry. It's pretty full today..." he turns around and asks "Who among you slammed the door and woke me up?"